


rosy-fingered

by treztine



Series: set our hearts ablaze [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Biting, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Hand & Finger Kink, Light Bondage, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:02:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/pseuds/treztine
Summary: She wasn't sure how Alisaie managed to divine her exact desires from such a simple motion and a brief glance, but didn't think to question it. All she cared about was the enticing sensation of her arms pulled above her head and silk bound around her wrists.
Relationships: Alisaie Leveilleur/Original Character(s), Alisaie Leveilleur/Warrior of Light
Series: set our hearts ablaze [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1399156
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	rosy-fingered

**Author's Note:**

> sexual content ahead: fingering, oral sex, light bondage, biting, finger sucking  
> takes place some time in the future.

_as sometimes at sunset_   
_the rosy-fingered moon_   
_surpasses all the stars_

The apartment was set alight.

Colors flooded in from the westward facing windows; oranges and yellows, reds and deep purples. Beams of light flickered through the air, passed over bookshelves and chairs and motes of dust, all before they fell to the floorboards and sputtered about like spent embers. Everything the sun touched turned into a canvas gilded in gold, painted by warmth. It really had a way of making everything more beautiful. Though, it wasn't just the furniture and the walls that were afforded such treatment.

It shouldn't have been possible—that miraculous feat of enhanced beauty—seeing as Alisaie was already the most beautiful woman Poppy had ever laid eyes on. But the sun managed, always, in all its rosy-fingered glory. And it's what pulled Poppy across the room, so that she might get a closer look at its work.

Relaxed with a book in hand and eyes half-lidded, Alisaie looked very much like a cat that sunbathed in a beam of warm light. After a few quick and silent movements across the sheets, Poppy crawled onto her unassuming partner’s lap, unable to resist the temptation. Alisaie reclined beneath her, languidly stretched out among the myriad of cushions that littered their shared bed. She seemed unbothered by the sudden intrusion. When she finally peered up from beneath pale lashes edged in gold, it was a lazy sort of curiosity that landed on Poppy and guided her hands to act out their desired task.

Poppy’s fingers fluttered up the hem of Alisaie’s blouse. She pinched the collar of it between her forefinger and thumb and gave it an experimental tug, subtle enough to be missed. But Alisaie—perceptive as she was—noticed at once. Poppy took the amused quirk of her brow as permission to continue.

Her fingers drifted lower and paused at each button, touched the glittering silver outlines, and flicked at them in a slow succession, trailing further and further downward until each was left undone. Eager hands pulled back crimson cotton, gently, just so, and revealed the black lace that hid underneath. The evening poured beneath the fabric to saturate Alisaie’s skin in a fine sheen of orange and red, and Poppy was entranced by the sight, by such haphazard and natural artistry.

She could do little for a while aside from stare, admiring the painting of a woman who she was lucky enough to witness. But Alisaie was no lifeless work of art. No, she was very much alive. The book she held was closed and tossed aside and a tiny smile pulled up the corner of her mouth in a way that seemed to say _go on_.

Poppy obliged, of course, and let her hands trace the elegant curve of Alisaie’s neck, pausing only to drag her thumb across the delicate thrum of her pulse, heightened by her curiosity. She chased the highlights of yellow drawn along her collarbones, touched the smatterings of peach painted on the lace of her brassier, relished in each subtle hitch of Alisaie's breath at the docile sharpness of claws against skin.

The light of the evening hung all around them like a heavy veil that made each movement feel drawn out. Time slowed to a crawl beneath the wandering fingertips that dared to explore all parts they could find. It was only when Alisaie's hands reached through the dreamy haze of dusk that they were both anchored back in reality, if only for a moment.

“Are you flirting with me?” Alisaie asked softly. The words caught on the air itself, a bit teasing, a bit incredulous.

She gave Poppy's hips a firm squeeze that asked another silent question, one made obvious by the restrained hunger of the motion. Poppy lifted one of Alisaie's hands and smiled against it, dragging her lips across pale knuckles to give her silent answer.

“No,” she replied with as much innocence as she could muster. But as soon as she locked eyes with Alisaie and parted her lips, the guise fell away. Her tongue darted out to taste the pad of her thumb and lingered there for just a moment. “ _Now_ I'm flirting with you,” she whispered.

Alisaie's eyes never left her, just as Poppy’s lips never left her hand. She breathed into her palm, kissed every ilm of skin she could reach as she made her way upwards. She took a finger into her mouth, then another, slow and almost cautious, letting her tongue trail along them and then between. After a brief pause she let a smirk slip, sucked on the tips of both fingers, and watched the expression on Alisaie’s face shift towards something far more intense.

Alisaie's gaze practically smouldered through her, and Poppy felt giddy beneath it. The fingers in her mouth twitched slightly and so she bared her fangs against them, biting down gently but just enough to make their owner release a sharp exhale. Poppy let out a pleased hum at the reaction, which only affected Alisaie further, if the upward jerk of her hips to grind against her was any indication.

Poppy's eyes slid shut, replacing golden sun with empty darkness. Afterimages of light danced against the backs of her eyelids as Alisaie's fingers danced across her tongue, more firm and wanting than before. Her other hand slid beneath the thin fabric of the camise Poppy wore and snaked upward until it palmed her breast. She moaned around the fingers in her mouth when the fingers on her skin began to pinch and tease her. That soft, needy sound seemed to be what urged Alisaie to take charge.

When Poppy opened her eyes again, she was greeted by the sun once more—but that time as a bright blur that mingled with shadow as she tumbled down onto the bed. Alisaie’s fingers were no longer in her mouth or wandering across her chest, but tangled with her own, pinning her in place. The tables had turned, it seemed.

“All right,” Alisaie murmured, “you have my full attention.” She tilted her head and rosy sunlight stretched across her face to highlight a triumphant sneer. “Now what?”

The question hung in the meager space left between them. Poppy looked up at Alisaie, still in awe of how she'd been bested. It sent a thrill through her—to feel even the barest hint of Alisaie’s strength restrain her and to remember how much larger than Poppy she was. It was enough to quell whatever urge she felt to fight back. She still squirmed a bit beneath Alisaie, feeling vulnerable and exhilarated both.

Perhaps taking Poppy’s prolonged silence for hesitation, Alisaie leaned down to encourage her to speak. She moved far enough that her long braid slid over her shoulder, disturbed from its place draped along her back. The vivid red bow that held it together just barely brushed against Poppy's cheek. Sensing this somewhere on the periphery of her attention, she turned her head just enough to catch the bit of silk between her lips. She stared up at Alisaie, unblinking, and spoke her silent plea.

Alisaie blinked back at her once, twice, then loosened her grip on Poppy's hands. “Very well,” she said with an air of forced propriety, but the smirk she wore betrayed her delight.

Poppy wasn't sure how Alisaie managed to divine her exact desires from such a simple motion and a brief glance, but didn't think to question it. All she cared about was the enticing sensation of her arms pulled above her head and silk bound around her wrists.

The ribbon plucked from Alisaie's braid was tied taut but not uncomfortable. A tug gave little leeway, as she was—to her great joy—tied to one of the wooden slats of the headboard. That same heady sense of vulnerability lit a fire within her, one to rival the fire the sunset bathed the room in. It was only the feeling of fingers on her skin that pulled Poppy’s attention back to her captor.

Alisaie's hands slid up her stomach and her ribs, and hitched her camise all the way to her collarbones until Poppy was left half-bare beneath her. She ducked her head and admired her work for a moment, appraising Poppy with equal parts affection and hunger, her hair a loose and wild mess of snow that haloed her head and hid half her face. The sight only made Poppy squirm more.

“Such a needy, wanton thing you are,” Alisaie said, scolding if not for the note of sincerity in her hushed tone. As she leaned over again, her hair grazed Poppy oh so lightly, and her fingers traced invisible patterns on her skin that left gooseflesh beneath the agonizing touch. “My dear Warrior of Light,” she added, hot and wet against Poppy’s throat.

 _Warrior_. It seemed ironic, seeing as she felt more like a captive of it then, that light. Still, the title had the intended effect, in the way it was spoken to her like a reverent prayer. Poppy shivered despite the heat that bloomed between her legs and made its way up her body, to the very tips of her bound fingers.

“You wouldn't blame me if you could see how beautiful you look right now,” Poppy said, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Another bit of irony, given that she couldn't see the face pressed against her neck. But she did feel the warm breath of a scoff tickle her cheek.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Poppy grinned, more to herself. She wanted to say that flattery got her _everywhere_ , always, but the quip died and turned into a gasp when Alisaie's teeth sank into her skin.

The binds of the ribbon already proved to be useful, as Poppy tugged uselessly against them, wanting nothing more than to throw her arms around Alisaie, sink her claws into her back and pull her nearer. But Alisaie remained deliberately out of reach, curled above her far enough that the waning light of sunset pooled between them like an insubstantial barrier of gold. The only contact Poppy was afforded was the mouth that sucked bruises onto her neck.

Alisaie bit her, ravenous, sating her hunger on delicate flesh. And Poppy laid beneath her, so very happy to be devoured.

She was slow and methodical, unusually patient. Her teeth found each nerve, plucked them all raw. Her tongue tasted her work as she went and her lips kissed away brief bursts of exquisite pain. Down she went, from the corner of Poppy’s jaw to the juncture of her shoulder, leaving no ilm untouched. Then, having filled her current canvas, her attention slid downward still to find more bared skin to continue the masterpiece painted by her attentive devotion.

Poppy gasped when Alisaie’s teeth found her breasts. She was no less rough than on her neck, but Poppy leaned into each bite to chase the sensation that felt like crackles of fiery aether that flew up her nerves. She whined wordless pleas, silently begged for more, unable to do anything aside from stare up at the ceiling and suffer in the best way imaginable. The light above her turned from rose to lavender, the coolness of night blurring with warmth. The marks Alisaie left behind to claim her would likely be the same purplish hue, and Poppy would wear them with pride.

Eon-long seconds slid past. Alisaie continued her feast while Poppy began to starve. _Oh_ , it was truly too much, and so unfair. Her hips jerked upward, desperate for some kind of contact, for any sort of much-needed friction to sate her growing need. All she found for her trouble was the crushing grip of Alisaie’s hands.

And gods, those _hands_ —so much larger than her own, with one being more than enough to span across the width of her waist. That it did, while those devilish fingers curled into Poppy’s flesh with enough pressure to hold her back down against the bed.

“Alisaie, _please_ ,” Poppy begged, voice trembling. She fought against Alisaie’s grip and knew all too well that her binds would not yield, but tugged at them anyway. “Don’t be cruel,” she added, and that time it was a pout that pinched her lips together in a petulant sort of way.

Alisaie gave her breast one last nip and dragged her tongue through the valley between both before her head quirked up. She tilted her head and flashed a look of innocent confusion, but it was no more than a ruse, much like how Poppy spoke before she took her fingers into her mouth. A spark of smugness betrayed her, and then Alisaie moved up to devour Poppy’s pout as well.

“Patience, darling,” she murmured as she caught Poppy’s bottom lip between her teeth. “You’ll be rewarded yet.”

And just like that she was upright, seated between Poppy’s knees after nudging them apart. Her hands were on her waist and her thumbs dragged along her hip bones, dipping beneath the fabric pulled tightly around them. Poppy meant to whine again, but was silenced as Alisaie yanked her pantalettes and smalls down in one swift motion, and tossed both aside as she’d tossed her book away before.

Poppy found herself completely bare. She burned beneath Alisaie’s gaze, which was more fiery than the light that had cooled to violet around them. And she was thoroughly _soaked_ , Poppy knew, even before Alisaie swiped a thumb softly over her slick lips.

She moaned at the sliver of contact she was finally given, and at how the crystalline blue of Alisaie's eyes shone down at her, reflecting what meager light of dusk was left. Whatever patience she held had run out, the well of teasing gone dry. A twinge of satisfaction flickered across Alisaie’s face as the day finally died, and with the night came two of her fingers, pressed into Poppy at once.

The fullness, the immediate stretch. Poppy tossed her head back, if only to silence the howl that threatened to tear through her. She choked out a gasp and Alisaie only reached deeper with those elegant fingers of hers. The fingers of a swordswoman, long and calloused and deft, ones that threatened to leave her undone in no time at all. Poppy's own fingers curled into her palms and her claws dug into her skin as she tugged, weakly, helplessly, against the ribbon that held her in place.

But it would be so simple to tear the scrap of red silk apart, she realized. A sharp claw would see it done easily and she could draw Alisaie in, claim her in turn. _And what would the fun in that be?_ her own playful voice asked from the back of her thoughts—likely the last scrap of rationality she had left. So we went limp and let Alisaie take her, who had perhaps observed this inner struggle through the changes in her expression. She was rewarded for her obedience—or perhaps punished—with a sudden curl of Alisaie’s fingers. Poppy cried out in blissful agony.

“Are you going to come for me?” The question came from above, asked with far too much sweetness for how quickly and deeply she thrust, well past the point of innocence.

Poppy could hardly see, for the lack of sunlight had stolen the sharpness of her vision, much like how a blindfold would cloak her in shadow. But she could hear Alisaie’s self-satisfaction just fine and felt how she leaned forward, likely to observe the descent into madness she drove Poppy to.

“Why don’t you _make me?”_

Poppy grinned into the night, all teeth and defiance, despite how she felt she might break from how thoroughly she was fucked. Alisaie’s face was close to hers, suddenly, and Poppy could see how emboldened she was by the challenge. She could feel it too when a thumb pressed down on her clit and dragged along each and every slicked nerve.

“Oh,” Alisaie whispered, “I intend to.”

Before Poppy could cry out, Alisaie’s free hand cupped her face. Her thumb traced her jaw and then slipped into her mouth to silence her.

Poppy's tongue lapped at it at once, her teeth sinking into the knuckle, her labored breaths escaping past it as warm puffs. Truly, she was Alisaie's captive, trapped beneath her hands, strummed and plucked at like a harp. And there was nowhere else she would rather be, at that moment or any other.

Alisaie leaned even further down to drink in each detail of the woman she’d unraveled. Their noses brushed together and Alisaie’s forehead came to rest against Poppy’s, the motion reverent for all its frailty despite the divine destruction her hands wrought at the same time.

“ _Come_ ,” she ordered with equal force and gentleness, somehow, and Poppy could do little at that point aside from obey.

Alisaie's fingers dragged along her walls, curled inwards, her thumb sinking down into nerve. Poppy’s release came with all the force of a storm, much like the woman who’d caused it. She bit down on Alisaie's thumb until she tasted copper and thrust her hips upwards to meet her hand, once, twice, as many times as it took until she was completely spent.

Poppy went limp, sinking heavily into the sheets. Her eyes were out of focus and blurred by stray tears, but she was greeted by the sight of a faint, rose-lined sliver of the moon when she looked up. It peered back at her from beyond the gossamer curtains draped over the glass of the windows, distant and beautiful, lulling Poppy back down from her high.

Not yet recovered or even coherent, she was surprised when she saw the looming shadow that was Alisaie sit up to block out the sky. She was even more surprised when she felt warm breaths graze her stomach and hips.

“I'm not through with you just yet,” Alisaie whispered, both a threat and a promise.

She was poised between Poppy's legs yet again, her head low and words enticing. Poppy could scarce question her before Alisaie's lips found the inside of her thigh.

She painted bruises there as well, sucked them into her skin from her knee all the way down until she stopped just short. Her head hovered there for a moment before it dipped down to devour her yet again, hungry anew.

Poppy didn't bother to quell her voice that time. She nearly screamed, if not for how her throat seized up at the overwhelming sensation that overcame her. For the first time she truly cursed the ribbon that bound her, because she wanted nothing more than to grab the silvery curtain of Alisaie's hair that pooled along her hip and brushed against her thigh, and tug it to drag her even closer than she already was.

Alisaie's tongue danced against her, as if to clean the evidence of the mess she’d made. She drank up every bit of wetness, pressing into Poppy just so, dragging against her in such a way that was just _too much_ , that tore Poppy’s already frayed nerves apart. The instinct to press her thighs closed made her muscles go tense, but Alisaie’s strong hands kept her pried open, much like a book too good to be put down. But all of it was nothing compared to when Alisaie's teeth clamped down on her clit, gently, but with enough pressure to nibble at her, and then suck.

“ _Alisaie_ ,” Poppy sobbed, not sure if she begged for her to stop or continue.

It didn't matter either way, as another release tore through her. Poppy was set alight, just as the apartment had been perhaps a bell before. When she closed her eyes, it felt as though the sun had risen again with how bright the backs of her eyelids appeared. The light burst and fizzled, faded to stars, and then left her in soothing darkness once more.

Alisaie pulled the bow that held Poppy in place undone. She unraveled along with it. Her arms were stiff but she managed to rub her sore wrists and realized that, thanks to her struggling, they would likely be graced with the same purple bruises that littered the rest of her body. Not that she minded, of course, she thought to herself with a faint smile.

Fingers circled her wrist. Alisaie had laid down beside her at some point, and Poppy only realized it when soft kisses were pressed along the imprints left on her skin, as if to wipe the soreness away. Blearily, Poppy noticed how Alisaie's thumb—the one that'd been in her mouth—sported red welts left by her fangs, flecked with a bit of dried blood. She leaned forward to press a kiss of her own against it.

The two of them exchanged those wordless tokens of apology for a while, along with smiles that turned into more kisses, first on cheeks and then on lips.

“Did you get what you wanted?” Alisaie hummed against her, into her mouth.

Poppy let out a weak laugh at her coyness. The sound rumbled quietly between them, rich and lilting like a purr. “That and then some,” she murmured in reply.

Poppy realized a bit belatedly that she could finally touch Alisaie, and let her hands wander beneath the blouse she unbuttoned what felt like an age ago. Her claws sank into Alisaie's shoulders beneath the fabric and pulled her in, crushing her lips with a kiss that silently spoke her thanks.

Alisaie let out a little sound of surprise that melted into satisfaction, like a fleck of snow on Poppy's tongue among the honeyed taste of herself. Alisaie arched her body into the touch and cradled Poppy in her arms in a way that made a spark rekindle in her gut.

“And what do _you_ want in return?” Poppy asked, half a question, half a promise for reciprocity. She trembled against Alisaie as she dragged her hands against the small of Poppy's back and traced lazy circles around the sensitive patch of skin above her tail—perhaps considering all that could be done to repay the debt.

“I want,” Alisaie finally whispered against her lips, a bit breathy and suggestive, "...for you to rest."

Poppy squeaked in surprise. Seeing the stubborn look of defeat flashed at her, Alisaie moved to quash the oncoming barrage of protests with a kiss to Poppy's brow.

“Enough pouting. You can have your way with me in the morning,” she added, and punctuated the promise with a pinch on Poppy’s hip.

Poppy grumbled her displeasure, lamenting over how unfair it was that she couldn't make Alisaie come undone beneath her just yet. But the yawn that crawled up her throat and pushed past her lips forced the need for patience.

“If you insist,” she conceded. The petulant sigh that followed made Alisaie roll her eyes in playful amusement. “Morning it is, then.”

In truth, Poppy was more than content to doze in Alisaie’s arms, exhausted as she was, more pleasantly sore than she even realized. And all was well, she told herself, for the sun was her strength and would rise again to guide her hands with its rosy-fingered light once more.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you have terrible writer's block but then sappho says "write kinky catgirl smut" and that fixes it. :)


End file.
